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Roof Encounter
Log Title: Roof Encounter Characters: Angel, Lowdown, Cobra Commander Location: Roof of the White House - Washington, DC Date: February 26, 2017 TP: America Burning TP Summary: Lowdown takes a shot at Cobra Commander. Category:2017 Category:America Burning TP Category:Logs As logged by Cobra Commander - Sunday, February 26, 2017, 8:53 PM White House - Washington, DC :The White House is the official residence and principal workplace of the President of the United States, located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW in Washington, D.C. It has been the residence of every U.S. president since John Adams in 1800. The term White House is often used to refer to actions of the president and his advisers, as in "The White House announced that...". :The modern-day White House complex includes the Executive Residence, West Wing, East Wing, the Eisenhower Executive Office Building -- the former State Department, which now houses offices for the President's staff and the Vice President -- and Blair House, a guest residence. The Executive Residence is made up of six stories: the Ground Floor, State Floor, Second Floor, and Third Floor, as well as a two-story basement. The roof of the White House. Cobra banners flap in the wind, while BATs and snipers watch the lawn below, mindful of Joes and ninja who might have hostile ideas towards the current inhabitants of America's capitol. Instead of being tucked safely behind his wall of security, though, Cobra Commander is up here on the roof as well, pacing around with his Imperial Guard keeping a safe distance to stay out of his way. Angel is on position, guarding the White House from his sniper's vantage point. Ever since Mindbender finally released him from 'experimentation', the blond sniper hasn't gone far from where he's stationed. If he goes anywhere, it's with a handler. After all, the man had been broken down mentally, molded into a perfect soldier. Speaking of Joes with hostile intent, there's one taking up temporary residence in an empty office overlooking the occupied White House. He's got a pretty good view of it, too, even from a quarter-mile away. His Barrett is set up on its bipod, and he's taped a fine mesh over the scope to minimize the chance of lens reflection until he's got a target. Angel isn't wearing his helmet, and he only wore the face gear during the night. His green eyes have an odd emptiness to them - a characteristic of those put through the Brainwave Scanner. Only troops deemed traitorous but useful went through the mine warping processes. Cobra Commander stops when he passes Angel, somehow recognizing the sniper out of all the troops in his legions. It's just one of his skills as a commander. "Ah, Angel," he hisses, stopping to talk. His mirrored facemask reflects the sniper's face back to him. "Why, may I ask, are you out of uniform?" The Commander seems more curious than angry as he focuses his attention on the lost sheep recently returned to the fold. Angel snaps to attention - just missing catching a sight of Lowdown in his sight. "The helmet interferes with my vision in the day, Cobra Commander Sir! My direct commanding officer gave me permission to remove it only when on sniping duty sir!" He's standing at rigid attention. Lowdown catches sight of that shiny faceplate as the light glints off of it. Talk about making yourself a walking target. At this range, it doesn't take much movement to adjust his aim, and he puts Cobra Commander's form right in the middle of his sites. Then the other Cobra steps into view, and... there's a moment of recognition. Cobra Commander listens to Angel's explanation and nods in response. "Fair enough, but you should at least wear your facemask. It may be uncomfortable, but you especially should hide your identity from our enemies -- you know your brother is gunning for you," he insists. The Commander watches Angel's face for a reaction to that claim, measuring the effectiveness of Mindbender's programming. Thus far the Commander is blissfully unaware of the sniper targeting him. Angel hesitates, just a moment. A wide range of emotion flits across his features unconsciously. He still loves his brother, but has come to know that Cobra doesn't want him to. His face finally settles on 'firm resolve'. "He's not a good of a shot as I am. Besides, he's a Joe. Heart on his sleeve, sir. But if it is your will, I shall wear my mask." Lowdown is a Joe, and all about putting hearts on sleeves... but that mostly applies to other people's hearts... and usually on someone else's sleeve... he's one of the good guys, honest. Cobra Commander studies the emotions flashing across Angel's face, but nods as it settles on 'firm resolve' and a promise to follow orders. "Good," he says, almost kindly. "We just wish to keep you safe, Angel, as you keep us safe up here." Cobra Commander's digitized, somewhat hissing voice tries to simulate sincerity, with various levels of success. Angel snaps a smart salute. "Sir, yes Sir!" But something at the back of his mind bothered him. Something didn't feel right. He knew it was wrong to question, he just had to follow orders. But, he could tell something was wrong. He dutifully fits the facemask back on, adjusting it before returning to his post. But the nagging thought his occupying some of his attention. Lowdown watches as the little meeting starts to break up, still uncertain as to why he hesitated. Sure, he's deep within enemy territory and this next course of action is a suicide mission, but it's all for the greater good. (The grea'er good...) Lowdown tracks Cobra Commander as his finger tightens around the trigger, pausing at that intimately familiar twang of the spring just before it releases the hammer. He lets out his breathe slowly, naturally... His breathing pauses... The sight centers on the shiny faceplate... There's no swell of pride in this attempt, no adulation at the potential demise of the Joes' greatest enemies, not even a sense of vindication. The only thing he feels is the recoil. *KARANG!* Cobra Commander starts to turn, and at that moment a high-powered bullet slams into his helmet. The silver outer layer shatters, and the round comes just centimeters from punching right though the inner layer and piercing his brain. As it is, it's enough to knock Cobra Commander off his feet. As he falls to the ground, head ringing, Imperial Guards rush in. They instantly form a human wall to protect the Commander from a second shot. Angel's attention is completely captured by the *CRACK* of the bullet smashing into the Commander's helmet, and then the belated sound of a LARGE gun firing. Maybe Angel should reconsider not wearing his. He's up in an instant, snatching his gun to look through the scope as he stands. He couldn't fire like this but - "I'll get him!" He yells. Wait, is he just gonna run towards Lowdown's positon? Yuuuup. Lowdown is a professional. He knows better than to let loose with a string of heartfelt and /very/ explicit obscenities in a situation like this. He calmly and cooly slides all that rage into the back pocket that is the blue jeans of his soul. He slides back away from the window into the shadows of the building and shoulders his rifle. He deliberately chose a building with access to underground utility lines, and that's where he's headed. On his hands and knees, Cobra Commander crawls to safety, surrounded by his Imperial Guard. "Get him!" he yells through the painfully ringing in his head, not knowing if his helmet radio is still working, but blindly wanting revenge against whomever dared to shoot him in the head and nearly end his life. One of his Guard tries to help him up, but the Commander waves him off, preferring to stay low and out of range for a second shot. Angel is pounding the pavement, awkwardly securing his rifle as he runs before drawing his sidearm. Only one thing echoed in his mind, implanted by endless sessions. ATTACK. So he barrels ahead, headless of the pain in his lungs and legs from the sudden exertion. If Lowdown allowed himself one regret over this entire fiasco, it would be that he didn't bring his Steyr and a SABOT round. Well, live and learn... and live is what he intends to do. Keeping one hand on his rifle to hold it steady, he hops over railings as he makes his way down the building's stairwell. His knees certainly don't thank him for that. He politely tells them to shut the fuck up. Cobra Commander is rushed inside, and to medical attention. He isn't actually injured, but you couldn't immediately tell that from the look of his helmet. Luckily for the Commander, his visor is designed to take just this sort of attack, although a couple of centimeters over and even his high-tech armor wouldn't have been enough to stop a killing shot. For now, though, the Commander will survive, even if his ears will be ringing for a week. Angel's feet are giving him the same lecture Lowdown's knees are. They get the same reply. At some point he's torn off his facemask because it wasn't comfortable for him, at least running all out like this. He slows somewhat so that he can hear over his footsteps, trying to corner Lowdown as he comes down the stairs. "Hands up!" Even over his own flight, Lowdown could hear Angel coming. His ears really are that sensitive. Wolverine would be jealous. As he comes over the last railing, he lands in a crouch, sidearm already drawn. He brings it to aim at the Cobra, "How's this?" He doesn't fire... not out of sentimentality or humanitarianism, mind you. More gunfire would give up his location. Angel takes an involuntary step back, his own sidearm coming up at about the same time as Lowdown's. His greed eyes are hard, but still have that odd vacant look in them. He takes a shuddering breath, a bit winded from sprinting all the way over here. "...That's not up." Angel says flatly. He spots the man's rifle - "That's a Barrett 50 cal. Those kick like a mule-...I..." There's doubt in those green eyes now, uncertainty. "...I've used one, but when?" He's still got the gun aimed at Lowdown, but he's distracted. Lowdown keeps his weapon raised, the bridge of Angel's nose firmly behind the front sight tip. He doesn't need to try to remember Angel. Once you go through a Quintesson death maze with someone, it's not easy to (naturally) forget them. His eyes narrow, "Look, kid, I'm kinda in a hurry... We gonna kill each other, or just go our own separate ways?" Angel's brow furrows. "I've... met you before, Joe. Haven't I?" There's a flash of fear and something else in his eyes. "No, I have to fight you! That's Command's orders, and I have to obey!" Bizarrely, instead of shooting, he tries to tackle Lowdown! Angel's eyes don't seem so empty anymore. Lowdown grunts as he's tackled by Angel. He's confident he doesn't need to use his sidearm, so he didn't bother shooting, and this is where it got him. Still, he's got years of training and experience on the Cobra, "Really not the smart decision..." Lowdown's got height (and most likely weight) on Angel. Bringing his feet up onto a higher stair, he leans forward as he kicks up, attempting to toss Angel down to the stairway landing. Even if it means going down with him, at least he'll land on top. Angel lets out a rather pained grunt as Lowdown uses his High Ground and bigger mass to take him to the floor. Oh that hurt, and more than just his pride. He finds himself pinned by Lowdown, and he's pretty sure he's got a cracked rib from that. "Who are you-...I know you. I have to. But..." He looks like he has a headache. "...Can't think. Have to obey!" He struggles against Lowdown! Lowdown grunts as he's tossed off into a wall, "Okay, kid..." He presses up onto his feet, "Somebody did a mindjob on you. Not exactly hard to see that." He closes in and drops down, snapping his elbow upward, "Maybe this'll knock things back into place." Angel stumbles back from the hit, clutching at his head. He looks very disorientated. He sinks to a knee, holding his head and his bleeding nose. "...Lowdown...?" he murmurs, sounding unsure. "That's... your name? How-" He gasps in pain, backing away from the Joe. He looks terrified of something for a moment. Lowdown recovers his sidearm, keeping it trained on Angel as he moves toward the exit, "What happened to you, kid?" Angel looks up at Lowdown, his eyes wide with emotions he doesn't seem to comprehend himself. "I don't know. I can't remember anything before... before..." He shakes his head, pulling himself to his feet. "I can't let you go - I can't! I don't want to go back to Mindbender!" He rushes at Lowdown. Lowdown is knocked back against the stairs again. Looks like playtime is over. "That ain't where they'll send ya, kid." There's a loud report as his pistol fires. Angel somehow gets out of the way of the pistol - more of a lucky break than any real skill on his part. "I'm loyal. I do as Cobra commands." He says to himself. Reminding himself? It sounds like he's said it a lot. He picks up his own fallen weapon, but seems unsure as he raises it and fires. Lowdown lets out a grunt as he takes the shot in his left side. Between the ballistic weave of his suit, and the experience of having been shot multiple times, he rolls with the impact to mitigate any vital damage. This sort of gunplay is bound to attract some attention. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He opens fire with his sidearm, firing off three quick rounds, as he tries to cover his dash toward the steps into the basement... Angel falls against a wall as he fails to dodge two of the bullets. He slumps, bleeding and in pain. The man lets out a pained gasp, but is in no condition to get back up. Lowdown frowns ever-so-slightly, inwardly cursing his feet that aren't presently running down the steps and out of this place. He knows Angel has a brother in the Joes, and every instinct is screaming at him to run... or even kill the Cobra first, then run. But he can't. He walks up to Angel and growls, "Time to get outta here..." He levels a solid haymaker at the boy's jaw. Sleepy time.